


A lesser man

by everAcclimating



Category: BUCK-TICK
Genre: Drug Use, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-23
Updated: 2018-04-23
Packaged: 2019-04-26 17:11:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14406687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everAcclimating/pseuds/everAcclimating
Summary: In which Imai has some interesting pre-work hobbies.





	A lesser man

**Author's Note:**

> Set about six months prior to Imai's arrest.

The snow falls softly outside Hisashi's windows as he waits for Atsushi to arrive—they're set to work on some songs together for the afternoon and Hisashi is decompressing beforehand, settled on the sofa in sweats watching Doraemon and smoking. His stomach twists into knots when he's alone with Atsushi lately, too full of thoughts of things that can't be, things that only happen when they're both drunk. Hisashi often wonders if there's any inkling of feeling there when Atsushi is sober but he pushes thoughts like that aside so that he doesn't dwell on the unattainable. Smoking helps quell his nerves, letting him instead concentrate on the pleasanter aspects of things. It eases him, puts him in the proper frame of mind.

He's halfway to liquid and already has several notes scribbled down by the time that Atsushi knocks and Hisashi pinches out the lit end of the joint so that he can rest it in the ashtray without wasting any. Standing, he makes his way to the door so that he can open it and tug the other man inside, shutting the door behind him immediately. His movements are smooth, loose, easy, and he smiles at the vocalist as he takes off his shoes. "You're late," he says with little fanfare, "I already got started." He brushes a little snow out of Atsushi's hair as he speaks, watching some of the crystals melt where they rest. It turns more into stroking his hair for a moment, distracted, until Atsushi clears his throat.

"On more than lyrics?" Atsushi says, sounding vaguely amused, and Hisashi just laughs for a moment, inexplicably tickled by the statement.

"You should join me," Hisashi counters, barely giving the other man enough time to shrug off his coat before he's linking their fingers and tugging him further inside. "I have a good indica, it won't wind you up at all, not like a sativa—"

"—Hisashi," Atsushi starts, but the whipcrack of a man is already urging him onto the sofa. The gentle tactile way of him right now is like nothing else, so unlike their hurried moments that they're lucky to remember clearly if they do at all. Atsushi lets it continue as Hisashi sits beside him, thighs touching.

It takes Hisashi a moment to retrain himself to speak in anything but a slow drawl but he still sits with hands twined, rubbing the pads of his fingers over Atsushi's knuckles. It makes something in his chest ache but he pushes it aside, focusing on the moment and smiling again, faint. "You don't have to if you don't want to, but it's as good a time as any." It's something so _Hisashi_ to say that Atsushi laughs, patting his hand with his own free one and not saying anything else for a moment. Hisashi's eyes are just a little glazed but he's alert enough for the time being, looking at Atsushi with an owlish gaze. "You're going to end up getting a second-hand high anyway if you don't, so you might as well."

_This_ makes Atsushi laugh again, sitting back in the cushions with a sigh. "With that kind of argument, how could I refuse?"

Hisashi chuckles and leans forward, grabbing the joint and his lighter with little fanfare. "You won't regret it," he says, "probably." On that encouraging note he lights up again, confident as he takes a slow puff as example and hands it over, head tipping back to the ceiling as he exhales a lazy cloud. "Don't feel like you have to catch up," he warns, "I've been at it a while." All the same they sit quietly like that while Atsushi smokes, Hisashi drawing designs on Atsushi's pants leg with thin fingers. Atsushi hands it over a couple of times to let Hisashi maintain (as though he needs it) and the guitarist takes more of it, far more experienced with the drug than Atsushi is. It's a gentle high though, and for a long time it seems like it's not affecting Atsushi at all.

"Is this even doing anything for you?" Hisashi sounds startled even from where he's practically melted into the sofa and only squints at him when Atsushi nods. "Are you sure?"

"It feels nice," Atsushi confirms, mysteriously, but Hisashi finally smiles again and nods.

"Good," he murmurs, hand lifting to card fingers through Atsushi's hair. "Good."

They leave off when the joint is gone and Hisashi feels like if he doesn't have something to weigh him down he's going to float like a balloon into the ceiling so he shifts, sliding sideways until he's laying on the sofa before tugging Atsushi closer to him with a smile. "Come here," he says softly, not relenting until Atsushi is fully settled atop him. The solid weight of the other man helps and Hisashi lets out a slow breath, looking up at him with lidded eyes. "You're beautiful," he says it apropos of nothing and just smiles up at him when Atsushi's expression turns owlish this time. "I think about you all the time." A part of Hisashi's mind is desperately telling him to stop but it's so firmly pressed down beneath the restful calm that he continues anyway, lifting up on one elbow to kiss the vocalist slowly, an open-mouthed and languid thing that draws him further down as Hisashi sinks back into the cushions.

One hand flutters by his shoulder, touch barely there before settling, fingertips trailing up and down Atsushi's arm as they kiss. It's so leisurely that he's almost not moving at all, and his other hand comes to settle at Atsushi's waist so that his thumb can rub circles over his hip. "Let's call today a wash," he says at length against Atsushi's mouth, head almost too heavy to hold up, "I don't want to move."

Atsushi can only nod and Hisashi smiles brightly, guileless as he kisses him again, just as lazy. Normally the guitarist would never have suggested it and the vocalist wouldn't have accepted it, but this is such a rare thing that neither of them want it to end—Hisashi thinks that it's the first time they've done anything like this actually, and a feeling of warmth swells up in his chest to quiet the last of his demons. His hand shifts to Atsushi's back, sliding under his shirt so that he can lightly brush his touch over the skin, feeling every line of muscle beneath it with the pads of his fingers. He does this for a long time with his head resting on Atsushi's shoulder, just breathing softly near his ear with his eyes closed. _I love you_ he thinks but doesn't say, thankfully, because he's sure it would dispel the magic he's cast over Atsushi this afternoon. Things are good like this and he's not going to press for anything else, just enjoy himself like they are.

He can tell that Atsushi is zoning out when he lifts his head and kisses him one more time, finally dropping his head back to just look at him, hands stilling where they rest to keep him close. He doesn't say anything at all, just searches Atsushi's face with his eyes and takes in the fall of his hair around the sides of his face. "Tired?"

"A little," Atsushi admits, returning Hisashi's gaze hungrily before letting his forehead thunk to his shoulder. "I don't know if tired is the right word for it."

Hisashi smiles, letting his lips graze Atsushi's hair as he shuts his eyes. "Let's nap," he rasps, "and then I'll make you some dinner."

"I'm holding you to that," Atsushi says, muffled, and Hisashi laughs as they drift off to sleep.


End file.
